


Killing Me Softly With His Song

by JJavierr



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asshole Shane Madej, Blackmail, Bottom Ryan Bergara, Crying Ryan Bergara, Dark, Dark Shane Madej, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Ejaculation, Gun Kink, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mafia Involved Shane Madej, No Aftercare, Non-Consensual, Obsessive Behavior, Overstimulation, Private Investigator Ryan Bergara, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Serial Killer Shane Madej, Top Shane Madej, brief fight scene, originally removed for gun safety lecture in end notes but reapplied due to feedback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJavierr/pseuds/JJavierr
Summary: Shane had always loved pretty things-“Ryan… Ber… gara…” he sounded out.-and Bergara was fucking beautiful.He walked over to his desk, eyeing the varnished gleam of the thousand dollar mahogany wood. (He’ll never get tired of it.) He pried open the tabletop, retrieving the mark xix .50ae that he got as a gift from Scott on his twentieth birthday. He sighed, relishing in the brushed chrome finish of the gun. He never did like the gaudiness of gold; it's a good thing his brother knew him well.‘This will do,’ he thought, and picked up the phone.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Killing Me Softly With His Song

He couldn’t help himself. Shane had always appreciated the pretty things. He thinks back to his “art curator” parents who had drilled that into him from childhood. Appreciate the beauty nature often has to offer.

Sometimes, that beauty nature had to offer was people.

And unlike his parents and older brother, Shane preferred for his subjects to be alive. Sure it was harder that way, but he enjoyed their struggles. To him, nothing exemplified life better than its opposition to death. The generous grit that gleamed in peoples’ jaws, of their grim determination. The desperate dance of womens’ breasts when they’re fighting to keep breathing. The supple curve of muscle in the men who think maybe if they try hard enough, their adrenaline can help break their bindings. The dip in the collarbones and taut shoulders when they’re strung up. It was so amusing, too, watching their feet kick out for a solid hold on the ground. Or to search for it.

It’s such a shame that he can’t let them stick around. ‘None of them will ever want to stay. They just want to go yapping to the coppers,’ his parents’ voices resounded in his head. Just once, though, he’d like to keep one— if only he could find the _perfect subject_.

And that was how he was here today, enamored with the PI on the television. Hosting a press conference. _About him_.

It was almost the perfect love letter. Another closeup happened and Shane traced the muscle underneath the rugged dress shirt. Shane shivered. It _is_ the perfect love letter.

Shane had always loved pretty things- 

“Ryan… Ber… gara…” he sounded out.

-and Bergara was fucking beautiful.

He walked over to his desk, eyeing the varnished gleam of the thousand dollar mahogany wood. (He’ll never get tired of it.) He pried open the tabletop, retrieving the mark xix .50ae that he got as a gift from Scott on his twentieth birthday. He sighed, relishing in the brushed chrome finish of the gun. He never did like the gaudiness of gold; it's a good thing his brother knew him well.

‘This will do,’ he thought, and picked up the phone.

—

Ryan should’ve been more careful. He knew that part of why he initially wanted to refuse the police chief’s press conference was due to the publicity it’d draw on him. He _knew_ he’d be in danger from that point on.

_But he didn’t think that The Curator would make a move so fast._

It’s been one day since he went public.

‘How did he find me so fast?’ Ryan wondered, hands shaking as the suited man backed him further into his apartment, the gun digging into Ryan’s stomach. He can’t believe he’s letting himself be handled like this by this fucking douchebag. He hasn’t even seen his face yet because that bastard won’t let him turn up his head. He’s going to be killed and he won’t even get to see his killer’s face.

He grunted when the man dug the gun especially hard into his flesh, probably because Ryan was paused in thought. Ow.

‘Is there a way out of this?’ he thought. He was facing the guy. If he moved fast enough, maybe he could grab the gun and turn it on the man? Ryan eyed those big hands and the steady hold on the trigger. No. It wouldn’t work. Something told him this man was dangerous, and not just because of the gun.

But he had to think of something. The guy was bringing him down the hall, farther from the entrance. Into his bedroom where the only escape would be the window that opened into the fire escape that was seven floors off the ground. ‘If I could knock this guy loose for even a split second, could I make it out?’ Probably not.

All the while, the man was pushing him through the threshold.

He turned around for a second to close the door. ‘There.’

Ryan threw out a punch at the taller man, nicking his jaw. Shit! Why didn’t he just go for the stomach? His attempt to fight back was quickly quashed as the bigger man took the opening in Ryan’s side to draw up his knee and _drove it into Ryan’s stomach,_ **_dear lord_ ** _-_

“Oops,” Ryan heard from above him as he screamed in silence, panting and doubled over. “Maybe that was a bit too hard.”

Ryan snarled. He could hear the amusement and apathy in the guy’s voice.

“Get up.”

Ryan pointedly did not get up.

“Get up,” the man demanded again and kicked lightly at Ryan’s cheek with a polished leather shoe.

“Ryan. Get u-” when the guy tried to kick Ryan again, Ryan lunged, trying to tackle the man to the ground by making him lose balance.

It’s too bad that this guy seemed to expect it. Whatever bravery Ryan had mustered in that moment was gone in a wisp as the guy caught him and jammed the barrel of the desert eagle down his throat. Ryan whimpered with fear.

“Not so mighty anymore, huh?” the man taunted when he angled his wrist to force Ryan’s face up. “Hm?”

Ryan looked up from the aim; if he thought that the metal reminded him of an axe shining above his head, then looking at the man’s face felt like staring at the fucking reaper.

He kept tilting his wrist up, forcing Ryan to crane his neck back farther and farther till his hair tickled the back of his shirt. And then he kept going, farther farther back until he had Ryan laid against the floor, legs underneath him, painfully stretching the muscle of his thighs.

He felt like he was held that way for several minutes, the stretch nigh unbearable. But if he tried to push his head back up… the warm skin of the other man’s finger holding the gun, and most importantly, the trigger, reminded Ryan of why he shouldn’t do that.

When he felt the warmth of the other man settle between his spread thighs, Ryan flinched and the man put a bit of his weight on the gun, lightly choking him with both the dense metal and the bitter tang invading his throat.

—

Shane watched Ryan swallow around the intrusive metal in his mouth. Fuck. He groaned deeply, his pants already filling out. From the way that Ryan whined, he could probably feel it. Not that he wouldn’t. Shane’s hips were flush against Ryan’s after all. Only wishful ignorance would help him escape this.

He grinded harder against him, just to make sure Ryan knew what he was here for.

It seemed to remind him of the direction this could take.

‘If I pull out the gun, would his breath have fogged up its shine?’

He leaned it to the side, gandering Ryan’s side eye and the saliva that clung to the finish of the gun. Shit. That’s so fucking hot. He eyed the curve of Ryan’s neck and pushed the gun further, watching him gag. So pretty.

—

If there was one benefit to this situation, it was that Ryan was sure this guy wanted him alive. So perhaps, he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

He fixed his farthest leg, the one out of the man’s sight, and struck.

—

‘Huh.’ Shane clutched his side and held his gun steady. “Huh,” he echoed verbally, “that’s. That’s fucking hilarious.”

He looked up at the shocked PI with furrowed eyes. “Very… funny.”

Ryan’s eyes flitted to the door. “Uh uh,” Shane said, waving the end of the barrel at Ryan. “Don’t even think about leaving.”

Ryan tensed but bit back, “Oh yeah? And what’s gonna stop me besides your gun, huh? Afraid you can’t do anything without it? Just you wait, I’m going to get you arrested you fucking psycho!”

“Well,” Shane smiled, tracing the shudder in Ryan’s frame, “that and the fact that if I don’t walk out of this apartment alive, Micki and Dori will join me six feet under by the end of today. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

The slowly dawning horror in Ryan’s eyes was telling enough. This wasn’t just his dogs being threatened. Definitely not. The only way for Shane to know about Ryan’s dogs were if he knew where Ryan’s parents lived. And if he knew where Ryan’s parents were…

“What do you want? Please, just tell me. Leave my family alone,” Ryan begged. That was _much_ better. He loved the cute lilt in Ryan’s voice. The way the fear made him speak higher like a trapped mouse.

Shane lunged.

—

“Ah… oh g- fuck…!”

Shane smiled at the sound of lube and spit slick against their skin. Sliding through Ryan’s ass.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled sharply into Ryan’s ear.

Ryan cried, his tear tracks accentuating the bruises that littered his cheeks. “I- I can’t! Too- too much!”

Shane’s always loved pretty things. It’s a shame he always ruins them.

“That’s not the answer I want, sweetheart.” He drew up the gun again, shoving it down Ryan’s throat like earlier and the desk they were on rocked with the force of Ryan’s head slamming against the wood. He eyed the laminate and peeling edges. ‘This dirt cheap piece of shit.’ If he brought Ryan back home with him, he could fuck him against something sounder. The desk creaked with another organ ramming thrust. ‘Something worthy of him.’

“I’m… sorry-” Ryan sobbed, throat gargling, hiccups disparaging. God, fuck. He’d grow harder if he could.

He chased his ecstasy, groaning and snarling into Ryan. The way his plush folds dragged against the skin of his cock was ethereal. If Heaven was real, Shane had reached it. Ryan writhed underneath him, wiggling and clenching the already _very_ little room Shane’s cock gave him. **Fuck.**

Ryan keened underneath his gun and suddenly, Shane had an idea. A very wonderful idea. He hauled Ryan up and slammed him stomach first onto the desk, ignoring the breath that was knocked from Ryan’s chest and re-entered him, biting his lip as he sunk into that amazing fucking ass again.

Not for the last time in his life, Shane thanked his enormous size. He pulled Ryan up by the hair as he fucked into him harder, watched his boy’s cock fill out all over again, listened to the way he positively _screamed_. Then he shoved the barrel back down the open mouth and began fucking it into Ryan’s throat. Ryan moaned.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” Shane laughed. “You should see the way you look.”

He glanced at the red light of the camera he placed next to them. “If you come running back to me, I might even send you the video as a reminder.”

Ryan’s floodgates had burst long ago. He was incessantly moaning and crying now, but it intensified with his words. Not that he was complaining of course.

Ryan’s saliva glistened when Shane pulled the gun out and he groaned into Ryan’s neck at the sound of him swallowing loudly before continuing to sound off, each cute little noise sounding punched out, one after the other.

“I-I’m-” hiccup “-sorry.”

Shane frowned. He’s been repeating that on occasion over the last couple of hours. He wonders if he was apologizing to his future self, or if he was apologizing to his god. His frown turned into a smile. “Do you think god is watching us, baby?”

Ryan didn’t respond.

“Rest assured,” he dug the gun into the pouch of Ryan’s stomach again, reminiscent of earlier when he came into Ryan’s apartment. “We’re all alone, baby.”

He pressed the gun into a sensitive angle of Ryan’s belly button and watched him come undone, gargling incoherent obscenities, convulsing in his grip, screaming.

‘So pretty,’ was all Shane could think as he spilled his seed into Ryan minutes later when the man was seizing with overstimulation against the stained desk.

When he was cleaned up and tucked back in, he took down the camera, put his gun back into his shoulder holster, and took a piece of paper from one of Ryan’s drawers. He scribbled his number on it while Ryan laid motionless, faced away from him, and then folded it up, slowly shoving it into Ryan’s gaping hole, watching the way his shoulders shook.

“I’ll be going now, baby. Make sure to get cleaned up before anyone else comes in here, won’t you? Don’t want anyone else using your hole,” he laughed, even more so when Ryan’s hand clenched into a tight fist, shaking and veins popping with anger.

“Oh, by the way,” he turned back and moved around the desk to look Ryan in the eyes, grin splitting his face. He brought his mark xix up facing the ceiling, making sure Ryan was watching it. They both knew that if Shane fired it right here, right now, it would more than deafen the both of them. Though Shane loved these beauts, they were _loud_. He had to admit though, at the end of the day, their capability for destruction was what made them beautiful.

He pulled the trigger.

In the quiet room, Ryan’s flinch was almost louder than the small click, indicating that there weren’t any bullets in the first place.

The dam broke for Ryan. He cried against the table as Shane silently watched satisfactorily, making sure to reset the trigger properly in front of Ryan’s face to rub salt in the wound.

When he left, it was to the sound of Ryan sobbing excessively in his bedroom.

Two days later...

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Today** 1:06AM

This is Ryan.

Hello, Ryan :)

You can call me Shane.

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure this actually counts as DD:DNE.
> 
> Title inspiration is obvious.
> 
> You can interpret the ending as Ryan reaching out for the video like Shane suggested or as Ryan trying to get evidence from Shane. I don't care. Originally, I intended for Ryan to get a call from his parents that would've revealed that Shane never had gunmen on them to begin with, but clearly I didn't follow it. Not sure why, really, that would've been a sounder ending.
> 
> On a side note, don't be a fool, wrap your tool, and by tool, in this case, I mean your protect ears and remember the rules. I only know a small amount about guns because of hunter relatives, but if I ever say anything trustworthy about them, it's that I hope you're properly trained in gun safety and understand when it is appropriate to use one, unlike Shane here (and just in case; Ryan didn't know about it being unloaded beforehand because he never got to hold it. Even if he did, in this case, Ryan is a PI and DE's aren't practical for defense uses. He'd probably be unfamiliar with it. Shane even carrying it around for use is unrealistic which is why he keeps it stored away and simply revers it rather than actually fire it.) **Regardless of his keenness for situational use, Shane still violated every universal firearm rule** (except maybe one since his target was Ryan). And committed several felonies. **Don't be like Shane.**
> 
> And note, this barely even begins to underscore the importance of gun safety, so I sincerely hope you're taught them from a legitimate professional if that becomes your thing. **Treat every gun like they're loaded and know their condition, keep your finger off the trigger when not aiming, don't point at anything you don't intend to destroy, know your surroundings and the conditions around your target.** These rules are of a matter between life and death and I'm repeating them in light of the fact that I myself could've killed someone for violating them before. Good thing it was a toy gun and airsoft pellets, but point blank range again or not, those things still hurt, and what if it wasn't a toy that I picked up? Even if you never intend to carry, you might know someone who does and it's better to be safe than sorry and teach a friend in case they don't know the rules themselves.
> 
> Stay safe out there.


End file.
